As he drew nearer the sound of his footsteps startled Growler who nervously upset his coffee over his shirt front.
"What d'ye suppose he is ?" he asked of Cheery as the stranger approached.
"I judge he's a parson, from the cut of his clothes," observed Cheery.
Then as the new-comer advanced he called: "Hello, friend! Who'd 'a thought of meeting company this far back in these mountains ?" "This is only about eight miles from the town where I live," answered the gentleman, who now seated himself near them with his back against a tree, "I know the paths through here fairly well, for I come this way several times through the summer.

But this will be my last trip for the season, and I'm giving a little more time to it on that account.
I've taken it somewhat leisurely to-day." He was a delicate-looking, middle-aged man, with a mild voice and a kind face.
"You're a drummer for a publishing house, I take it ?" said Growler, nodding toward the books in the strap.

"I've just been wondering where you'd find any buyers in these infernal woods." The gentleman laughed.

"No," said he, "this is my regular route; but I'm not a commercial traveler in any sense.

I'm a pastor at a town near here, and I go out to these mountain families to hold services every few weeks." "You don't mean you foot it through these bushes and among these wildcats to preach to the mountaineers!" exclaimed Growler in astonishment.
"Certainly I do.